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growup-thatbeautiful · 1 year

Note

For Bullet Proof maybe you could write something where Tan and the reader do like a small little ceremony of just like them, Jovie, and Lemon where they get remarried

SHIT OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH i’m literally rewatching bullet train rn this is fucking insane. pls anon i pledge my full love to you 💕💕

Word Count: 3.8k

Taglist: @venusthepirate @shadows-of-nyx @syd-vixious @thefloatingpickle @sallyp-53 @fictionalcomforts @s-haa @the-bisaster @phoenixhits @wee-little-mouse @cupofstarss @eefos @slut-f0r-u @lotustv

Bullet Train Masterlist

This takes place as part of the Bullet Proof Series!

oh, i'm falling in love again

It’s bedtime for Joive, a nightly routine that, over time, you’ve perfected down to the minute. You wash the dishes from dinner, mostly because Tangerine’s usually the one who cooks, while he gets Jovie into her pajamas and brushes her teeth. By the time you’re done, most of the time Tangerine and Jovie are in her bedroom, reading a book together, waiting for you. First, you say goodnight to Jovie and then it’s Tangerine’s turn. Tonight, he’s wearing a worn black t-shirt that, more nights than not, you end up stealing from him. The grey sweatpants that adorn his long legs have also seen better days, but the fact that Tangerine’s comfortable enough to be comfortable with you is heartwarming on its own.

It’s been like this ever since you got your life with Tangerine back almost a year ago.

And what a year it's been. Of course, there are hard times. Tangerine still has to go on missions, you still worry yourself to tears when he doesn’t come home on time, and Jovie misses him like no other when he’s gone. On days when you’re both working it’s absolutely miserable, leaving Jovie with whoever you trust enough at the time to take care of her. Unfortunately, most of the time when Tangerine is working, Lemon is too, so your options are limited.

But you wouldn’t change it for anything, especially not when you get to watch Tangerine say goodnight to your Jovie in his own special way.

“Daddy?” Jovie’s sleepy voice filters through the air, matching the white curtains that float through the air with the wind billowing through the open window. Her hair pillows around her head as she lays in her bed, covers pulled up around her chest. The lavender walls around her cast a sweet glow over the room, a haze you could get lost in and have gotten lost in many times. It’s its own little world, the three of you undisturbed by whatever mission file is sitting on the kitchen table.

Tangerine is laying on his side next to Jovie on the bed, and you’re standing in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame. “Yeah, love?” Tangerine responds, turning his full attention to the little girl.

In her arms, Jovie holds her stuffed bear tighter to her chest and curls up closer to Tangerine. “What’s it like to be in love?”

“What’s it like to be in love?” Tangerine repeats slowly. He glances over at you for a second, and you offer a shrug. Jovie comes home with the strangest things from school, so you’ve learned just to go with it. With a nod, Jovie continues looking at Tangerine with her wide eyes.“It’s like a warm hug.” Tangerine’s voice is fond as he wraps Jovie in his arms, her giggling filling the space between them.

When he lets go, Jovie asks another question, curiosity in her voice. “Do you love Uncle Lemon?”

“Uncle Lemon’s a twat,” Tangerine says matter-of-factly, twirling a lock of Jovie’s hair and brushing it hair out of her face. “But yes, I love Uncle Lemon. He’s my brother.”

Jovie looks at you leaning against the doorway. “Do you love Mommy?” Instinctively, you glance at Tangerine, who’s looking right back at you, his grey-blue eyes piercing into yours, in the gentle way he can somehow manage.

“I love your mom more than I ever thought I could love anyone else,” Tangerine admits softly, his eyes not leaving yours.

“How did you know you loved her? Did your heart give you a hug?”

“Yeah, Jovie-love, my heart told me. It ain’t easy to listen to your heart, but when you know you love someone, you want to be with them forever.”

“So you marry them,” Jovie stares, an excited look in her eyes. “Like you married Mommy.”

“That’s right, Jovie-love.” There’s the softest smile on Tangerine’s face, and you’re certain that there’s a matching one on yours. Jovie’s been through a lot, but the fact that she’s able to now live with so much love in her life tells you that it’s all been worth it.

Jovie yawns widely and leans further into her pillows. “I think it’s time to go to sleep now,” Tangerine laughs. Carefully, he places a gentle kiss on her forehead and untangles his limbs before walking over to you and kissing you chastely on your lips. “I swear to God, next time Jovie starts asking those questions, I’m fucking walking out. Who the fuck is telling our girl about being in love.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, running your hands across his chest. “It’s such a shame that our daughter knows how much her parents love each other. Unacceptable.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he responds, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you through the hallway and to your bedroom. “It ain’t right. She’s too young to fuck about with that stuff.”

You hum non-committedly and Tangerine kisses you, your back against the wall. “I know.”

Tangerine’s head finds a home in the crook of your neck and your hands automatically run through his hair in soothing motions. “You can’t help but protect her, Tan. It’s your nature to protect the people you love.”

“She’s getting older so much faster than I thought it would happen. I mean, for fuck’s sake, it feels like it was just yesterday that she was learning to walk.” Tangerine’s words are spoken into the cotton of your t-shirt, reverent and reminiscing. You can’t help the memories that flood your mind of the growth Jovie’s gone through over the years.

“Remember when she used to wrap her hand around your finger? She was so fucking tiny,” you recall fondly, leaning your head back against the wall. Tangerine lends heavily against you, the wall supporting you both. “She seemed so fragile then, like she would break at any movement.” You remember the feeling well when Jovie was like a little porcelain doll who would shatter if you put her down too roughly.

“Not anymore,” Tangerine proudly admits. “Not our girl. Tough as nails, that one. She’s going to give the world hell. I think she gets that from you.”

“Let’s say it’s from both of us,” you suggest. “She’s going to turn out alright, I think. She’s got a pretty good dad.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, love.” Tangerine raises his head and looks at you, brown hair falling into his face. “You might have a little bit to do with Jovie’s success.”

“Wow,” you reply, sarcasm dripping from your voice, “Thanks, Tan. It’s good to feel appreciated.”

As you push off of the wall, Tangerine laughs and winks at you, grabbing your hand and following you into the bedroom. “I told you at our wedding that I would never let a compliment moment go by, didn’t I?”

“Do you ever think about it?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching as Tangerine places his rings in the tray on his side table. “Our wedding?”

“Of course I do, love,” he answers easily, sitting down next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. “It was a fucking disaster.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you argue, flopping back against the mattress and bringing him with you. He lays next to you and grabs your hand, his fingers linking with yours, resting them on his stomach where his shirt rides up.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, his raised eyebrows and judging eyes. “Darling, the room was literally on fire. I think that counts as a disaster.”

“Yeah, but we have a fucking good story to tell.” Your eyes meet his and you can’t help but smile that one smile that you have reserved just for him and Jovie. The one that breaks down all your walls.

“That it is,” Tangerine agrees. Then, sitting up on his elbows, he leans over you and asks, “Do you know what Jovie asked me the other day?” “What’s that?” you question, grinning as Tangerine traps you under him, his hands next to your head.

“She asked me if we were still married.” Despite the light tone he uses, you can see the worry on Tangerine's face; the crease of his eyebrows, and the concern in his eyes.

After a moment's pause, you respond uncertainly, “We…are, right? I mean, just because we weren’t together for a little while-”

“-more than a little while,” Tangerine interrupts quickly, his eyebrows raised at you. “It was almost two fucking years without you.”

“Right,” you agree. “We weren’t together for two years, but I’m still your wife and you’re still my husband, yeah?” Your hand comes up to cup Tangerine’s face in your palm, tracing over his features. You know them by heart, even though they’ve changed over the years. He has a hairline scar above one of his eyebrows, and the lines around his eyes are more defined, but he’s still the same man you fell in love with. You could still find him out of anyone else.

“That’s what I think. It ain’t like we got an official divorce.” Tangerine searches your face for approval, which you readily give with a nod. He takes a deep breath before he continues. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?” You try to soothe him by bringing him closer to you when you read the nerves that flow through his body, the tension that thrums underneath his skin and your hands. “What it is?”

“I want to marry you again.” There’s surety and strength in his voice that wasn’t there before, strength that he draws from you.

You’re not positive that you heard him right. “You what?” Softer, this time, he says, “I want to marry you again. I want you to walk down a rose-petal aisle while music plays in the background and Jovie stands next to me. I want to see Lemon cry like he always does at weddings, and I want to see you in a white dress looking like a fucking angel. I want to retell the world that you’re mine, and I want you to want the same thing.”

“Tan,” you say because you’re at a loss for any other words. “You really want that?”

“Of course I do, love. Do you?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “Yes, I do.” Unable to contain your joy, you bring Tangerine’s face down to meet yours in a crushing, crashing kiss.Tangerine follows your lead easily, his hair brushing against your forehead as he kisses you, his legs finding their way in between your own.

“Love,” he mutters, “I can’t fucking wait for you to be my wife again.”

~*~

As it turns out, planning a wedding is harder than you remember it being. Somehow, in the fog of memories from your first wedding, you forgot how much trouble it was to arrange all the details. After multiple breakdowns, mostly on your end, you two decide that a small ceremony without much pomp is the best decision for you. Jovie and Lemon are really the only ones that you need there, and, you figure, fancy things were for your first wedding. Jovie was the only one who had requested, once she heard about the plan, and they were simple things. She wanted a matching dress with you and to be the flower girl, which are easy enough to figure out.

Your dress choice, influenced by Jovie, is flowing and white, with sleeves that lay off your shoulders and gold-accented jewelry, to match Tangerine’s rings and necklace. Tangerine decides to wear his trademark suit, a dark blue jacket and vest with a striped lighter blue dress shirt underneath. His hair, like usual, is slicked back, the ends curling around his ears endearingly.

The flower petals are even easier to find, and Jovie chooses wine-colored rose petals to match the lipstick that you wear and the color of Lemon’s dress shirt.

Your choice of location is the most simple of all: your backyard, underneath the stars, just like when Tangerine proposed. The porch light isn’t exactly the most romantic of lighting or locations, but the way you’re able to feel safe from harm's way is irreplaceable. And, it didn’t take long to set up either, which is a win with your busy schedules.

You’re fixing the collar of Jovie’s dress while Lemon and Tangerine get ready next to you, and Jovie fidgets with the basket of petals in her hands. “Mommy?”

“Yes, baby?” you respond, moving to her hair. Lemon helped you do it in some style that you have no clue how to do, a braided bun that makes her look a lot older than five years.

“I need to go get my bear. He wouldn’t want to miss this.”

“Okay, love. I think I saw him in the living room on the couch,” you reply, patting Jovie’s cheek before she runs to get her bear.

“Let’s fucking do this, yeah?” Lemon says when she’s gone. “Second time’s the charm, that’s what I always say.” There’s affection in his voice, along with the exasperation that’s only possible between brothers.

“Fuck off, you prick,” Tangerine responds, fixing the lapels of his jacket. “And don’t bring up some Thomas the Tank shit, yeah?”

“If Thomas can’t tell you about love, no one can,” Lemon argues. “There’s no one better to talk about than Thomas when vows are exchanged. Plus, it would make Jovie happy.”

“He’s got you there, love,” you laugh. “If there’s anyone who would appreciate Thomas at our wedding besides Lemon, it’s Jovie.” Tangerine’s eyes narrow as he looks between the two of you. “I’m not a fan of you two ganging up on me.”

“Funny, I was going to say the opposite,” Lemon cheerily adds.

“Lighten up, bruv. It’s only once you get married to a girl like her.” The laughter in Lemon’s eyes doesn’t humor Tangerine, but you can tell he’s not really upset by the way he rolls his eyes and raises his eyebrows.

“I can still uninvite you,” Tangerine threatens, leaning against the brick wall.

“No you can’t,” you say. “Not on my watch.” Tangerine looks at you, unimpressed, but you can see past the false mask of disinterest.

“At least let me tell you how fucking beautiful you look,” he asks, a suggestive smile on his face. “Because, after all this time, you still manage to look like an angel.”

“And that’s my cue to fuck off,” Lemon snips. “You two are fucking gross.” Just like he always does, Lemon is able to make you grin.

“So I can’t even compliment my wife? What would Thomas say, Lemon?” Tangerine asks, tilting his head to the side. “There’s no episode on separated assassin couples who left in the middle of the night where they get remarried and their smartass brother gets whacked on the head.”

“No,” Lemon says shortly. “There’s no episode like that, which you would know if you ever watched with me.”

“Yeah, Daddy,” Jovie says with her hands on her hips. “You never watch Thomas with us.”

“That’s because it’s a kids show, love,” Tangerine responds apologetically, sweeping her up into his arms. “And since when did you start taking Uncle Lemon’s side against me? He’s turned both of my girls against me.” Jovie’s shrieks of laughter fill the air as Tangerine flips her upside down and tickles her, while you and Lemon watch fondly from the sidelines.

“I think it’s time to get this over with, then,” Lemon chimes in, “So my favorite niece and I can watch ourselves some Thomas, right Jo?” He’s met with enthusiastic cheers from Jovie, and Tangerine puts her back onto her feet.

You hand Jovie her basket of flower petals and she takes it gladly in one of her hands, the other faithfully occupied with her teddy bear.

Jovie tosses flower petals in the air, and they float down around her, white silk landing in her curls that shake with her giggles. Something soft is playing in the background, with a gentle, dreamlike piano melody that you can’t help but close your eyes to for a moment.

And, for that moment, you take a deep breath, letting memories wash over you. Everything, every choice, every heartbreak, has led you here, with Jovie and Lemon and Tangerine all surrounding you, the only family you really need.

You see flashes of life before you got married when Tangerine brought you dog-eared copies of his favorite books and you faithfully didn’t ask questions when he came home covered in blood. He didn’t ask you either, and it worked out, somehow.

You see the night he proposed to you, the twinkling stars that slipped behind clouds while he got down on one knee and asked you to be his. How young you had been, how happy, how carefree.

You see your wedding, the white dress you wore that matched Tangerine’s, and the white flower in the lapel of his jacket. Lemon had been the only other person there, which isn’t so different this time, but you have Jovie with you this time. That had been at the beginning of Tangerine’s newfound wealth at his job, and you had been quick to spend as much as you could justify on a dress. You have absolutely no clue where that dress is today, but you wouldn’t have worn it again today anyway. It carries too many bad memories, too much potential for a bad future.

You see when you first told Tangerine that you were pregnant, the panic took over your life before the pair of you, and Lemon, settled into acceptance and cautious expectance. Yes, you had been sick for almost three months straight and then you had been too big to do anything else, but you had also been happy and so excited to meet your baby girl. The day Jovie was born, Tangerine had been on a job, which he and Lemon immediately left to come be with you.

All these things, that make up the puzzle of your past, float through your mind before you settle back in the moment.

Jovie’s petals hit the ground and she looks towards you, her smile wide and her eyes brimming with excitement. When you reach your hand out, Jovie comes to you.

There’s no priest or any other religious figure; both of you agreed it was an unnecessary addition. You’re already married, this is just to recement that fact, for yourselves and for Jovie.

More than anything else, it’s a fresh start. A new chapter. You’re moving forward, not forgetting to look back at what got you here in the first place.

So, without much ado, you walk towards your husband as he stands up straighter and instinctively reaches out for you.

“Love, at this point there’s not much I think I could say that you don’t already know, but I think it’s probably worth trying. I know there’s not a lot I can say to make this any more special than it was the first time, other than the fact that I started looking at you one time on a crowded London train and I haven’t stopped looking at you since then. You are truly my sun, my moon, my stars, and every comfort that I never had before you. Not only have you given me your love, but you’ve also given me a daughter who I would die for, I would kill for, I would live for. There’s- there’s nothing I can say to thank you enough for that and everything else you do for me other than I love you so much, so fucking much, excuse my language, Jovie.” Somehow, Jovie can sense the importance of the moment, because she nods and looks at you for your words. You take his hand in yours and hold them in front of you.

“Tan, you and Lemon, for a long time, were the only people I trusted enough to feel anything around,” you start, emotion clogging your voice. “ Then, I realized how much you actually meant to me, as more than a friend, and I had so many chances to screw everything up, a few of which I took. I’ve fumbled my way through raising Jovie, and I’ve fumbled my way through us. But you’ve also given me every chance to come back into your arms, my home more than anything else, and I love that about you. I love that you swear too much and steal things, and you pick Jovie up from school when I’m not up to it and put her to bed every night. You are the father of my child and the only person I would ever want to raise my family with.” Tangerine cups your cheek in his hand and wipes away your tears with his thumb, looking at you like you’re something precious, like you don’t have a bloodstained past.

“Jovie-love, could you come here?” The two of you decided, instead of exchanging rings for each other, it would be more worth your time to get something for Joive. After all, you already have a wedding ring from him, and it still fits you just fine. It's from a simpler time, an easier time, a time without Jovie, but a time when you were just as in love with him as you are now. Tangerine has his too, and you don't know if he ever stopped wearing it. You usually had yours with you, even when you weren't with him, whether it was around a chain on your neck or in your back pocket.

Tangerine asks softly. “We have something for you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a golden necklace, the same shape as his with the same type of jewel from your wedding band. How he managed it, you don’t know, but it doesn’t matter, not when Jovie’s face lights up at the sight of it.

“This is a very special present, baby,” you explain to her, crouching beside Tan to be at her level. “You’re going to have to take good care of it, but Daddy and I think you’re old enough.”

“Would you look at that, Jo,” Lemon says lightly. “That’s one good-looking necklace, isn’t it? Do you think you could get one for me?”

Jovie smiles and shakes her head before putting the necklace on with Tangerine’s help. It’s too big, but she’ll grow into it. If she’s anything like her father, she’ll never take it off.

And you kind of hope she’s everything like her father.

125 notes · View notes

yomogi-mogi-mochi · 1 year

Text

Spolia (IV)

Parings: Malleus/(Light Fae) MC // Slight Rook/Vil // Trein/MC (Parental)

Summary: You wondered why you ever got accepted into NRC but never bothered to look back when the infamous black carriage whisked you away from a place you could never call home. Having been handed an opportunity of freedom, of solitude, of hope- how come you're paralyzed with fear rather than excitement? Your sunny plein air sessions and nightly walks contemplating this has attracted a certain dragon fae with an affinity for your nimble gargoyle sketches and magnificent paintings.

Notes: Rn I’m re-reading Nishi Kanako’s Fukuwarai so I’ve been inspired by her writing style/concepts in this work overall‒ it’s a story about defining “yourself” within the murky conception of “you”/what it means to “know” someone, and it uses a lot of sensory/bodily/interoceptive imagery to do so, but it’s kinda hard translating it to my native language to English. Also realized some errors regarding in-game knowledge because I have no working memory. Like actually none. But notes at the end for that lol. Lots of made up lore I vomited out enjoy! Comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated as always :)

CW: None

AO3 Link Here.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 (Here) // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7

Masterlist

————————————————

The rest of the cultural festival went smoothly, and though the anxiety from actually confronting the instructions of the letter you received buzzed inside of you, your discussions with Malleus on your passions and theories on Gothic architecture grounded you to the present. You were also pleased to find that the mystery student Trein mentioned was him, which gave you all the more reason to trust him with your adorations that tethered you back to life.

“That’s definitely an interesting theory…I could definitely appropriation being used as a psychological strategy during the wartime efforts and translating postwar with the rise of decorative statuary…” The both of you sat at the foot of a tree in the campus courtyard, leaning onto the sturdy trunk side by side, enjoying the sunny warmth that wove itself into the light breeze.

“My thoughts exactly, child of man. However I still need more material regarding wartime sentiments and society of both the fae and humans.”

You hummed in response. “I wish I could help you with that but unfortunately that falls a bit out of my specialization…I guess all we have is the knowledge in the library. Besides, first hand accounts are hard to find during many wartime eras.”

Malleus paused for a second, putting his slender fingers to his lips. “Hm…I believe actually have a proposition to this issue.” He paused, piercing his gaze into yours, as if to look straight through you. “Do you trust me, (name)?”

Your eyes twitched at the sound of your name on his tongue, before flickering down at your hands. “Always, Malleus.” The heaviness at the root of your wings formed a doubt in your mind.

Why do you trust me?

You dreaded the sturdy kindness, the benevolence of his words to follow. Opposed to you, who kept their heart tucked under sorry smiles and an eternal distance from living things, Malleus always presented his heart in the palms of his hands like a fluttering bird, ready to share its warmth with his friends. Warmth so foreign to your skin, to yourself, that you felt like you were carving the same cold emptiness into him as life had done to you, stealing the brilliant warmth from inside of him. But he was always warm.

“Repent, repent, repent”

“Then I trust you.” Those simple words almost shattered you. He rose from his spot on the ground, and offered you his open hand.

For once you did not flinch, or back away‒ as much as you wanted to turn and run and run and run from his kindness, his warmth, to spare him from yourself. You prayed for discipline , a resistance inside of you that would prevent you from camping next to his warmth, yet, everytime he offered his open hand like this, your body moved on its own, drinking the mulled sweetness that you yearned. In the palm of your hand, you memorized the heat that pumped through his veins, swallowing it with the pain that struck your heart whenever you looked into those eyes that gazed far into you, unraveling the tight knot that strung every piece of yourself that you had cleaved off for other people. You were the first to pull away, afraid that you could become undone if you allowed yourself to revel in his divine warmth any longer.

Find me, find me, find me

He smiled so gently when you accepted his hand. It burned. “I want you to meet someone.”

————————————————

You didn’t expect for Malleus to bring you to the Diasmonia dorm. As you walked on the cobblestone path, you noticed it was one of those rare days where sunlight grazed the rocky mountains the dorm was perched on top of. A perfect day for painting, you thought. However, you had more urgent matters. Malleus seemed eager to take you to his “someone”, but despite his enthusiasm, he made sure to slow his long strides with your small ones.

When the two of you arrived at a wooden door, Malleus gave a few knocks. A beat a silence before it creaks open.

“Oh! Malleus. And a friend…?” You recognized the short man as Lilia Vanrouge, the vice dorm leader of the Diasmonia dorm.

Malleus gestured towards him. “(Name), this is Lilia, Lilia, this is (Name), my dear friend.” Your throat choked on his words. Quickly you bowed to hide the bashful smile on your face, introducing yourself by your full name and title, like you were taught by your mother.

“(Name) D’aramitz, of the D’aramitz skincare and potions company. A pleasure sir.” Lilia giggled at your stiffness.

“We’re the same year aren’t we? No need for formalities, any friend of Malleus’ is my own. Come in, come in.” Lilia stepped aside, allowing the two of you to enter the colorful chaos that was his room.

Ah, such a messy room. We’ll be fast friends.

“So what brings you here?” The vice dorm leader cleared a pile of extravagant looking clothes with a flick of the wrist, before levitating a tin box of cookies towards the table he urged you to sit at. He instantly nibbled on a thumbprint cookie filled with red jam.

“We had a question that I thought you could enlighten us about. Regarding wartime sentiments between humans and fae?” Malleus explained.

You continued. “We’re doing research on gothic architecture and its reflection of cultural and social shifts in both fae and human culture.” The playful grin on Lilia’s face dropped a bit.

“Ah…It’s not a happy story. If you’re okay with that, I’ll tell you all I can.”

Malleus looked towards you for confirmation. “Yes, please, to whatever extent you’re comfortable with.” You said.

“Well, again, it’s nothing happy.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms to cradle himself. “Tensions were rising between the two species because of a standstill in the battlefield. Though we fae generally stuck to physical attacks because of our overpowering abilities in magic, however, the humans tended to go for cultural or psychological damages. One way they did that was the complete destruction of fae species.”

“There are many species of fae, and most have specializations based on their magical or physiological make-up. For example, you Malleus, are capable of breathing fire as a dragon fae.” Malleus nodded in acknowledgement. Lilia continued.

“Because the humans could not overpower us physically, they tried to go for psychological and cultural attacks‒ mainly targeting fae species which were especially prevalent in important cultural rituals and roles. Like the celestial fae, born from stardust, and often taking up roles in spiritualty because of their natural inclination with the stars and astrology. But the most gruesome… genocide …I saw, was the extinction of the light fae.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Suddenly, the ache at the root of your wings, and the itchy wig bristling against your pointed ears became heightened. You had read somewhere during your childhood, that light fae had, for the most part, been extinct for decades. That was of course all you could remember, as your mother burned the books you had gotten from the school’s library that had any relation to the fae. But, you didn’t think they were actually completely extinct.

“Light fae‒ blessed by the spirits of the sun‒ have, or, had a particular artistic affinity because they were able to distinguish more colors of the light. So they had a sensibility when it came to tactile and creative pursuits like painting, architecture, or sculpting. Though for centuries they often stood at the center of the art world, during the gothic era right before the war, they gained even more religious, cultural, and political power because of their role in producing stained glass. Further, because of their natural affinity with light, they also attract it. So often in their presence, the walls covered head to toe in stained glass would shine brilliantly. It’s truly beautiful.”* Lilia pauses, gazing far beyond the present moment and space as if to remember its radiance.

“When they were exterminated by the humans, it not only destroyed us psychologically and religiously, but we also lost much of the technical and symbolic traditions of gothic architecture. Without anyone to teach the techniques born from the light fae, the original intentions, meanings, and practices were gone, forever.”

You almost teared up at that. Gone, forever? Lost, never to be found? You dug your nails into the scabs in your palms.

“And the worst part is…what we know of the techniques currently comes from not fae and human writing. They claimed the knowledge as their own, and used it to structurally reinforce their palaces. Gothic architecture was originally born out of militaristic necessity, to strengthen defense. So they used that knowledge gained from the extinction of one of our kind against us.” With a somber expression Lilia mindlessly bit into another cookie.

“That must be what led to the decorative phase postwar, as well as the appropriation of architecture by humans…interesting.”

“Spolia.” You merely stated, starting to feel waves of numbness wash over you. Really, you were doomed from the start. The pain, abuse, and manipulation was just a cycle of what happened before, it was just being repeated over and over throughout history, then passed onto you like a pathetic family heirloom celebrating your growth into an agonizing skin which beckoned destruction. Why wasn’t your bloodline killed off during the war? Why did your parents swap you with a human child? Why did they leave you with your barbaric family? Why? Why? Why?

“Actually, Lilia, I have something to show you.” You barely registered Malleus leaving his seat out of the room, dazed in a nauseating trance.

“…(me)? (Name)?” Lilia’s voice fazed in, as he stuck his hand in front of your glazed eyes, waving it with a concerned look on his face.

“Oh. Sorry. I zoned out.” You quickly replied. The vice dorm leader shot a questionable look at you. He kept his eyes trained on you as he leaned back into his chair.

“You’re not human, are you?”

Despite there being no ill intent behind that question, you felt an icy chill drench your head at that question. You shrunk into yourself, praying that you would continue to become smaller and smaller, and disappear from that moment.

“I…I…” you blubbered. Anxiety buzzed to your hands and feet, and you squeezed your first further, drawing blood from your palms.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell little ol’ me.” Lilia tittered, offering you a cookie. “Fae are common here, there’s no need to hide it.” Internally, you signed in relief. It also seemed he had not caught on that you were a light fae of all things, perhaps because he spoke like he witnessed their extinction first hand.

“No, i-it’s…” you struggled for formulate words as your throat constricted. “It’s different. I’m a changeling. I was raised human, and my family…desires that I keep it that way.” The words you chose were curated carefully. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Lilia gives you a sympathetic smile. “I won’t. I promise. We’re friends, are we not?”

“A-ah, yes, yes…thank you.” You accepted the cookie that he wiggled in front of you.

He looks you dead in the eyes with a serious expression. “However, I would give anything that’s diminishing your magic a break when you can. Without being able to properly absorb your natural source of life, you’ll surely become drained,“ he paused with a playful smile “mad, even.”

Despite the lightness in his last words, those words struck your gut, swirling a nausea in your intestines that almost rose to the back of your throat. Through that absolutely vomit inducing quip, you let out a nervous smile to assure him that you were in fact, definitely not going mad. You thanked the great seven when Malleus entered the room again, canvas in hand. However, your nausea increased tenfold when he revealed the panting. Your painting. Your gargoyle painting.

Really need to get that exorcism asap. Because what the fuck

Malleus handled the canvas with extreme care, careful not to touch the surface.

“This painting…I’ve never seen such beauty and sensibility in the colors. I was wondering, could it be modeled after any light fae painting techniques?”

Lilia adorned an unreadable expression as he peered at the piece. He took a slow breath through his mouth.

“This…” He paused, gazing at the rare light that poured in from the windows. “This reminds me of a painting I came across during the war, once.” His chest rose as he took in another gulp of air. “Paintings by light fae circulated around the fae world, especially as their numbers dwindled. Even with their extinction imminent, they created, and created, and created, piece after piece, leaving remnants of their existence in the world.” Lilia softly brushed his fingers against the raised mountains of paint on the canvas.

“They were often heralded in the fae as a symbol of incredible strength, a stubbornness to live and create and see beauty despite the ever present death that was instilled in their existence during the time. The death of their friends, the death of their children, the death of their kind…” Both you and Malleus were entranced by his words.

“It was when morale was low‒ humans had succeeded in their psychological attacks and even with our physical capabilities, we weren’t recovering fast enough to get back to our full potential. We received word that a cathedral was being attacked for the search of light fae, so we ran as fast as we could.” Lilia paused for a second. “When we arrived, all we found was a demolished building. But there was one painting, still attached to an upright wall of the building that was otherwise completely obliterated. It was a painting of prayer hands. The form was simple, and the colors brilliant as usual‒ but the way that it handled light was so vibrant, ethereal even, and most of all soft, tender, and loving. These paintings were born of love. Love for the sun, love for their people, love for beauty, love for life. In its presence, I felt rejuvenated. I made me shiver in my skin and bones‒ in a good way.” Lilia drew his eyes across the entirety of the canvas, you were nervous to watch his expression.

“This painting reminds me a lot of that time. But I doubt it was actually made from a light fae, they were pretty thoroughly wiped out, you can even look at the surveys done in Briar Valley after the war if you want to confirm. Ah but the way this painting makes me feel…I feel an undeniable love from it.” Lilia’s lips were graced in a smile as he pulled his hands away from the surface of the painting. Your heart swelled at that, had you been painting with love? What did you even love? Had you felt it before? What did it feel like? You weren’t sure.

You looked at Mallus, curious of his expression. Sweetness spread on your tongue when you saw the enthralled look in his eyes. You drank his expression in, the same way his eyes consumed the painting.

Wait…if he purchased the painting, did he leave a note?

Your heart jumped at that. No, no, it couldn’t possibly be. Something so good couldn’t be true. There’s no way you could handle the reality of that situation. After all, who would love a damned creature like you? Still, you are reminded of the contents of the letter. You lull your heart with a prayer,

Find me, find me, find me.

“Thank you Lilia, for sharing that. I am…further in love with this painting.”

Find me, find me, find me.

“I should get going soon. It’s late.” You rose to your feet, averting your gaze from your creation. Malleus also stood.

“In that case, allow me to walk you home, child of man.”

You bid your goodbyes to Lilia, and before you knew it, you set foot once more into the front lawn of the Pomefiore dorm.

“Thank you for walking me back. And I had a lot of fun today! Please tell Lilia I loved his stories, and that his knowledge will be great for our future research!”

Malleus let out a airy chuckle at that. “You can tell him when we meet again in the future. He’s your friend now, you’ll probably be seeing more of him, especially with his pranks…” You returned his laugh with one of your own.

“Good night, Malleus.”

“Good night, (Name).” You felt like your body swelled with a million bubbles at the sound of your name. You watched his form slowly disappear, and you stood at the entrance of the Pomefiore dorm to confirm that he was likely on his way back to his own. The paper felt soft in between your fingers as you pulled it out of your pocket, worn out from you folding and opening it over and over.

“I wish to find you,

Spolia, 1001.”

Find me, find me, find me.

Your heart drummed along with those words. As you sang them in your head like a mantra, your legs carried you towards the direction of the library.

Find me, find me, find me.

The cool breeze in the library stained your cheeks with red. You trotted your way over to the bookshelf you scoured a few weeks ago, grazing your hand against the spine of each book, fearing that you’d somehow miss it.

Spolia, Appropriation, and Victory: Decorative Statues Throughout the Ages.

Spolia, you think again. Sought after its destruction. The new founded on the old. The cycle of annihilation you bear with your existence. You held your breath, hooking your finger into the spine of the book. With a quick release of air, you swiftly dragged it out.

Your hand trembles slightly, having no issue turning to page 1001 with the nervous sweat sticking to your fingers. 1001. A folded parchment nestled in the pages. Opening the paper, you shivered as you trace your feather light touch onto the elegant crimson cursive, raised slightly from the thin parchment soaking the ink. Finally, you allow your eyes to take in the contents of the paper, transforming meaningless shapes into words.

“Everything you are to me is that beauty I saw in your hands.

The hands that inscribed your thoughts, the hands that drafted your sketches, and hands that tenderly painted brilliant colors onto the canvas. Your hands create such soft gentleness, life, and a depth that pierced right into my soul when I gazed upon your inner world coloring the canvas.

Though I do not know you, what color your hair is, how the rumble of your voice echos upon my ears, or the warmth of your touch, what truly is “knowing” a person? When we think we “know” a person, we may imagine such things as the shape of their lips, or the hum of their voice, but I, who remain blind to these things, can only imagine the beautiful things which make up your existence. That is everything to me.

Though the world I imagine within you may seem small, everything that you are to me is beautiful. Your entirety to me in this moment is just that.

You are beautiful. So, so beautiful it hurts my heart.

If I may find you, gaze these eyes upon your hair, your eyes, your hands, and feel your warmth‒ I would like to expand this small world of beauty inside you that I know into something bigger. I would like to change the “everything” you are to me. I know that for certain, it would be magnificent.

Please let me find you.”

You didn’t even have time to stop the tears that were gushing from your eyes.

Oh great seven, you pleaded. Please, oh great seven, please find me, find me, find me. Your knees gave in from under you, and you knot your hands into a prayer with the letter still in your grasp. They shook from the power, the desperation, the hunger .

Find me, find me, find me.

You satiated that appetite with your tears that night, from the walk to your dorm, to the moment you sat in front of a canvas, painting with such ferocity you felt like you would drop dead if you stopped creating. The moonlight kept you company as you shed the layers which restrained your natural features, scrapping anything that slowed your furious movements.

Find me, find me, find me

————————————————

Notes:

Sorry this chapter is a bit short ,._. I’m gonna make up for it next chapter I promise

Just noticed while looking through the Wikipedia for the Diasmonia dorm that it’s on a literal fucking cliff so there’s really not much space to paint from afar, but I’m just gonna pretend that there’s some grassy areas around the mountain that the dorm is on, which is where I guess the character would go to paint IDK lol I totally forgot to put that into consideration because I completely forgot that the dorms are in their own dimensions because of fucking course they are lmao ALSO I realize most of the times it’s like cloudy and rainy and generally dreary there but I was like FUCK and added in the tidbit that light fae attract sunlight and their extinction made it less likely for Briar Valley/Diasmonia dorm realm to have less sunlight

AUGH I’ve forgotten how hard worldbuilding/creative writing is I should just go back to writing about the power in believing the futility of life depicted in art or whatever

Light is such an important aspect especially in Christian/catholic architecture. “Let there be light” holds a completely different meaning when you consider that technology was not developed enough to provide much light during the night, or to enable big windows to let in huge amounts of light in the early Byzantine era. So candlelight was predominantly used within religious rituals, the flickering of which animated mosaic Christian icons that decorated the walls of early churches in the Byzantine era. Then in the gothic era, light continues to be very important in a different way, as technology enables windows to become taller and taller, and more abundant. Stained glass often depicts religious images/narratives, paired with symbols of the ruling elite in order to strengthen secular, religious, political, and social power, so this light is a way of showing their power and influence in a direct way in the imagery of the windows, but also the existence of the windows as a testament of technological advancement made possible by the royal family (at least this is the case in France)

I wanted to emphasize hands not ONLY because I have a thing for hands but also because of their importance within the art world, and the human experience in general. Hands and hand motifs especially if they are the artists’ hand illustrate their creative soul and devotion to the craft, such as Goltzius Maximus The Artist’s Right Hand (1588). Though the hand is crippled, it holds incredible beauty in its ability, and stubbornness to create. Really, I was stuck between this, or Praying Hands by Albrecht Dürer (1508). But I went with Praying Hands because of the story behind it. To keep it short, Dürer and his brother wanted to go to art school but it was too expensive so the brothers decided to take turns working at a coal mine to afford it. With a flip of a coin, Dürer’s brother was the one determined to work at a coal mine, while his brother used the funds to go to art school, and they planned to switch in some years time. Dürer became quite the prodigy in woodcarving, painting, drawing, and some years later, it was finally his brother’s turn at the gig. But because of the harsh conditions of the coal mines, his brother’s hands were arthritic, and horribly disfigured, rendering him unable to do the delicate work of an artist. I think this piece tells tragedy, devotion, but most of all, love. The love between brothers, the love between people with the same goal. There’s longing, futility, and love in this piece and I think it would make sense for him, as someone who is sending his friends, his brothers, his sisters, and his kind into a pointless thing called war, he would be greatly touched at something like this

We hold hands to touch each other, to prove that we are in fact here, to bring ourselves closer. We use hands to prepare food for each other, to take each others pulses, to reach out to each other when there’s a distance. Though there are many hands that hurt us, there are hands with incredible love in them. The warmth we feel when we touch palms, touch flesh, is transferring that love from one human to another.

I’ll also be referencing this stuff in the next chapter

Also working on another fic with Rook based on the myth of Pygmalion. His character has such depth I think it tends to be overlooked because his avoidant attachment techniques are working lmao. But stay the fuck tuned goobers <3

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erwinsvow · 2 months

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just read the shy reader drabble,, I CRIED!! reader being a bookworm is so real bc me too i actually just bought a bunch of new books. omg you write shy reader so well and rafe and her dynamic is so everything to me i loved it😣

ALSO ENJOY YOUR SUNDAY RESET <33 i did mine earlier i'm doing my nightly tumblr scroll rn actually

- 💐 anon

omg stop!!! i love you so much thank you!!!! yesss i love shy reader its getting addicting to write it!

OMG im so glad you liked the bookworm bit!!! shes meeee but i have so many little things like that i'd love to work in i would discuss in depth but idk if anyone cares that much.. another one is that she luvs drinking tea and rafe's def a black coffee or redbull guy lmfao

<33333 if you have any other ideas send them my way im gonna try to work on some more!!!!! i love youuu yes sunday reset girlies unite <33 im all done and i got my nails done yesterday and did my weekly blow out and drank my tea so im ready to pound out some writing !! thank you for stopping by bae love you ♡

I DIDNT EVEN ASK OMG WHICH BOOKS DO TELL!!!!!! share w the class pls!!!!!

#📮 asks #💐 anon

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m0th-hours · 1 year

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this au is a few months old now but im gonna introduce it anyways >:]

so like

me and a friend we're both into OMORI and Ace Attorney, and as a joke during a gartic phone session she joked: "omg what if miles but sunny"

so yeah thats a thing now!!!! BECAUSE IT SOMEHOW FITS???

This Unnamed (ish, its named after the MC, but idk i wanna name it somethin else) AU is a crossover AU where instead of Sunny pushing Mari down the stairs, it revolves around the DL-6 incident.

Here are some basic details:

MILES takes on the SUNNY role, however I do imagine him just disliking crowds and often takes nightly walks ((cough cough this is how Turnabout Goodbyes happens in this au)) instead of being a complete shut in. Still not mentally the best though, because he got 0 therapy for his traumas

PHOENIX takes on the BASIL role, where in this AU he too got involved with the whole DL-6 Incident!!!! yayayayay trauma buddies! Poor mans originally wanted to just be a photographer but became a defense attorney :[

FRANZISKA is AUBREY. No questions asked it just... fits. Absent parents, anger issues... The only difference is that she's the same age as the rest.

LARRY is KEL. He took up boxing as a kid, and he's just a lil guy who is awful at reading the room,,,

we dont have a HERO role unfortunately :[ miles doesnt have enough friends lmao

GREGORY is MARI for obvious reasons,, the friend group's dad figure,,, definately gets them mcdonalds

While i know that according to the wiki, miles can play the piano and flute, he plays the viola in this AU bc we need more viola representation as a viola player myself /hj

the omori kid is named MIKKO which is ironic as i didnt know at the time that here on tumblr there's a person in the omori fandom who goes by miko so thats a thing lmao,,

I'd talk more about headspace but my lil brain isnt up to it rn,,,,, will do it though,,,,

#omori au #ace attorney au #crossover au #moth rants #im currently drawing the designs ok #franziska is really hard though????#idk why tho #ill make a seperate blog for the art tho #this au is my son #i want to squeeze all the characters like a stress ball

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spaghetti-n00dles · 1 year

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y'all i'm going to be so mean rn

if you're reading this, don't read below the cut

i'm am so fucking annoyed at my roommate rn

like why the fuck are you taking 45 mins, 60mins, over an hour showers?? during times that other people need to use the fucking bathroom?

like i don't think its a secret that i use the bathroom in the morning and in the evening. so why are you taking up so much time??

i used to be the type of person to just stand around in the shower cause it felt nice, and i get it. but its fucking rude when there are other people who need to use the restroom. it's not like there's another bathroom i can use, unless i want to go all the way in the fucking basement of the residence hall.

so you're making me wait 45 mins to take a shit? i hope you shit your pants in the most embarassing way istg

if youre the type of person to lose track of time in the shower, then fucking set a timer!! it's not hard! you set a timer, do everything you need to do before it goes off, and then you leave before or when it does! it is ! not ! fucking ! hard!

that way, you can have a reasonably-lengthed shower time and not inconvenience other people.

it was so fucking annoying that this person came up to me at 7am-ish and told me that they had a class at 9:20am and that they needed the shower. bro that is so fucking terrible. i have a class at 8am, so stfu.

i'm trying to go to bed at 10pm, but its really fucking difficult to do my nightly bathroom routine and then do everything else that i want to do before i go to bed when you've been in the bathroom since before 9pm and continue to be in their since 9:45pm!

and it was really fucking annoying to wake up at 6:30am, roll over and hear that you've gotten in the shower at 6:45am, then have to wait for you until you've gotten out at 7:35am! when i had an appointment at 8! it takes me less than 25 mins for me to use the bathroom in the morning.

i'm starting to fucking hate people who take a long time showering. like if you're going to take so fucking long, you need to shower at hours that no one else could possible need the bathroom.

like it's fine if you want to fuck around with your time. just don't fucking hog up the bathroom. this shit is so fucking annoying

and like i know i'm being a whiny bitch about it, and it could be solved by just me talking to her about it, but like i don't want to fucking talk about it. like how the fuck do you live with other people when you're like this

#no really don't read this #delete later #vent #rant #i'm pissed dude #i'm not at my greatest rn y'all

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sugawarassoulmate · 3 years

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this is just an unrealistic p*rn plot that i can’t stop thinking about bc akiteru is so big and hot and i’m so small and h word for him. pls let my dumb brain fantasize thank u also this story falls into the “non-con” stuff, which i normally don’t write but this was just an idea that i had stuck in my head so i wrote it. don’t expect me to write more things like this and don’t request it (consensual non-con is perfectly acceptable) if this makes you uncomfortable please feel free to skip, i’ll understand but make sure to read the content warnings so you understand what’s ahead. this is like the very bare minimum of dark content but it’s outside of what i usually write which is why this warning is pretty long.

words: 1k

cw: fem!reader, somnophilia, sleepwalking, non-con, unprotected sex, minors dni

having akiteru as a roommate had its perks. he came home from work at a reasonable time so dinner was already for you by the time you strolled through the front door and he was clean and didn’t have any worrying habits like smoking or drinking excessively. but you’ll admit, you were worried when he told you how early he goes to bed. you’re a bit of a night owl, often playing games or watching movies into the wee hours of the morning so you were worried your nightly activities wouldn’t mesh well.

but he assured you that he was a heavy sleeper—once his head hit the pillow, nothing could wake him up but his alarm. and it proved to be true. if you had dropped a plate while getting a midnight snack, akiteru didn’t seem to be bothered. you had free reign to get up to your usual antics without worry.

like tonight, you had decided to binge a couple episodes of the show you were watching. akiteru had knocked out around 9 pm and it was almost 2 in the morning now. you only had a few episodes left to finish the season but you could feel your eyes getting heavy so you figured it was time to call it a night—or morning. you rinsed the dishes you were using and went to your room, right down the hall from akiteru’s. crawling into bed, it didn’t take long for your exhaustion to overtake you.

you’re not one to have vivid dreams. honestly, you rarely ever remember them most of the time. but this one feels different, feels real. akiteru has you wrapped around his arms, hot breath hitting your face and neck sending shivers down your spine. one of his hands reaches over to slip past your sleep shorts. “teru?” you mumble, feeling his fingers tease your sex. “stop it.” but you’re not pushing him away. in fact, you’re spreading your legs and giving him more access to your center. whole body buzzing from the way akiteru teases your clit.

never have you ever looked at akiteru like that before. sure, he was objectively cute but hooking up with a roommate was always messy. so why were you dreaming about this? about how his fingers filled your cunt, hitting all the right spots even from the weird angle. you wanted to reach for his wrist to stop him but the pleasure building up was too much. god, please don't have a wet dream right now. how embarrassing would that be? but you’re cumming on his hand anyways, thighs shaking and breath heavy. that’s where the dream should end, right?

but you can feel your slick running down your thigh. and your back grow cold once akiteru disappeared. and you felt so little when your ginormous roommate hovered over you. there’s breathing you don’t recognize as your own but a familiar scent of body wash. the one that smells like cedar and sage. “stop, please,” you repeat, feeling your top getting pushed up, revealing your breasts. akiteru mindlessly reaches for them, twirling and tugging at your nipples with his fingers. you’re writhing in his embrace, silently begging for him to leave you alone.

it isn't until you feel something thick and hard at your cunt when your eyes finally open. it’s dark in your room and you’re still a bit hazy from sleep but it’s not long to realize akiteru’s on top of you, his dick shiny from rubbing it against you. you’re dreaming, you must be. but why are your shorts down? why is your cunt throbbing like somethings been inside it? “teru?” your groggy voice breaks the silence but the wind get knocked out if you when akiteru shoves himself inside of you.

a sob leaves your lips. it hurts, he’s hurting you. but this time you’re pushing him away, slapping at his shoulders but akiteru isn’t budging. he reaches the hilt before pulling out and slamming back inside. your body jolts up the mattress, tits bouncing as he thrusts over and over. “no,” but it’s like he can’t hear you. and that’s when you notice, through your tears, that you can’t see his eyes.

akiteru’s asleep. he’s asleep and he’s fucking you into the mattress and you’re too weak to stop him. you’re calling out his name, shoving him, squirming around but nothing’s working. the only sounds you get from him are the occasional grunts from the warmth of your cunt. “teru, this is wrong, please,” you tell him, hating how good he feels inside you. almost robotically, akiteru ducks his head down, attaching his lips to one of your buds, adding more stimulation to make your body betray you. the pain dies down eventually to the point that it almost feels good. between moans and sighs, you’re begging for akiteru to stop but your protests fall on deaf ears.

you’re gonna cum again, you can feel it. you’ve tried to suppress the urge but akiteru’s cock is splitting you in two, his mouth is suckling at your breast, and his fingers are at your clit. it’s too much, you’re going to burst. “teru!” you cry, tugging at his hair. the force of your orgasm almost pushes him out of you, white rings form at the base of his cock from how you’ve creamed around him. your cunt chokes him like a vice grip, and akiteru growls in your ear.

“not inside, please,” you beg, knowing what’s happening next. you pitifully try to push him away again but you’re worn out and akiteru’s only gotten rougher now that you came. his head reaches up, capturing your lips in a dreamy kiss when he shoots his load inside you, his seed filling up your cunt. akiteru stays there until your cunt milks him dry, never saying a word to you. after what feels like ages, akiteru rolls off of you, walking out of the room like a zombie. cum is seeping out of your cunt, dirtying your sheets. bruises were blossoming on your chest from where akiteru bit you. and you remain frozen, unable to process what just happened.

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #akiteru tsukishima smut #tsukishima akiteru smut #akiteru tsukishima x reader #tsukishima akiteru x reader #akiteru smut #akiteru x reader #akiteru tsukishima #tsukishima akiteru #akiteru #🍑#🍑akiteru #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu

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generallybarzy · 3 years

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Tag Game!

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

Tagged by @canadianheaters thank you even though i suck at these!!!!!

Name/Nickname: Lyss

Gender: Female (she/her)

Star sign: gemini

Height: 5′3 but technically 5′2 1/2

Time: 9:22pm (21:22)

Birthday: June 20th

Favorite bands/Groups: okay this is a lot.... COIN, Bastille, Surfaces, lovelytheband, The Neighbourhood, Peach Pit, Nightly, Lord Huron

Favorite solo artists: Hozier, Shawn Mendes, Harry Styles, lately a lot of Jake Scott, Sam and Sounds, Vance Joy, Matt Maeson

Song stuck in my head: CWJBHN by Jake Scott and Josie Dunne because omfg i’m writing and very emotional, highly recomment

Last movie: i don’t watch a lot of movies honestly but probably when I watched The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly with my brother lmao

Last show: The Bachelor (don’t look at me i know)

When did I create this blog: January 22, 2020

What do I post: hockey shit but mostly barzal stuff (when he’s actually playing and not holding out ahhhhhhhh)

Last thing I googled: where to find when i joined tumblr asdjsjgkjnr

Other blogs: my main @generallylyss and a poetry/soft stuff blog that i only give to very few people (if we chat frequently you can ask) and an old supernatural one that i haven’t touched in a long time

Do I get asks: not enough but yeah

Why I chose my url: it was generallyhockey but then i decided i mostly post about barzy so it turned into that haha

Following: 141

Followers: 974

Average hours of sleep: uggh this is all fucked, over my quarantine it was like 12 uhhhhh but usually its like 5

Lucky number: 13. The fav number came before i knew of barzy though, it was actually one of the reasons i gravitated towards him

Instruments: played flute for like 8 years and also i play keyboard sometime and i have a guitar but i’m def not good

What am I wearing: black leggings and just a gray long sleeved shirt, very basic rn haha and socks but my feet are vv cold

Dream job: working as part of a media crew for a sports team

Dream trip: nyc or like the west coast cause i’ve never been over there

Favorite food: any type of potato honestly. fries?? always. fries are my go to when we’re eating out

Nationality: american

Favorite song: don’t wanna chose asdfggyttsgr

Last book read: umm Blood Meridian (that was for class though) and currently A Tale of Two Cities. idk i’m into the older lit i guess haha

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in: uhhhhh deadass i literally don’t know any uhhhhhh

@fallinallincurls @dembenchboys @softboybarzal if you want to

#tag game #mutuals #im literally bad at about you things asddgrsfgs

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kirigakur3 · 4 years

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hello 👋🏼 i read from your about that you sometimes struggle with your sexual orientation and i'm going through a bit of a rough patch rn with my identity. is there something specific that you remind or ask yourself that helps you feel more secure in your sexuality?

HELLO... im sorry this is so late. i honestly have been thinking abt a way to answer but it is rly difficult esp as someone who .. Isnt totally secure most of the time.. sometimes i just have to get to the Basics of things. I just think like. Ok when i picture myself in 20 years.. what makes me happiest... am i with a man? or a woman? when i think about attraction i have to think like. It is not straight of me to think about lesbians and be like 😳🥺🥰😳🥰🥺🥰🥺 .. straight people just feel and do things and r like Yes ok this is how things are. if u (me 2... its hard to follow my own advice) are constantly questioning, constantly tginking abt whethwr u fit in the mold, if u are going with the Grain, if u ARE straight or gay or whatver... u probably arent straight bc otherwise like. what would have made u question it? the big issue for me that returns over and over is whether .. I dont want to be wrong, i Could meet a guy who i develop feelings for, as well as thinking about past interactions with men and wondering if i had crushes on them, did i Want to date them etc.. but its so difficult bc i look back on any weird crushes i had on guys witg disgust mostly.. i woild be like yes i have feelings for this guy. NO i dont actually want to date them... it is diffuclt to let urself just live but i rly would trt to just like. let things happen as difficult as that is.. i literally am up like nightly in Anguish over my identity .. i am sorry that this is not very eloquent or helpful but i hope it makes sense at least >_<

#anon #it is difficult 2 give advice abt sumn im barelt confident abtxz #😖😖😖

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bubble-tea-bunny · 6 years

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leo

[diana prince x reader]

author’s note: got like this super random idea and did my best to try to make it work cuz it was like one of those ideas that sounded really cool but was like really hard to write. maybe i just found it difficult cuz i’m like half asleep rn idk

word count: 2,008

You were born of the stars, and in your veins flows dust from plains of the universe light years away.

The first time she heard of you had been in Themiscyra, a tale in dusty tomes with their worn leather covers and upon the lips of her elders. It was her nightly bedtime story for a long while—a mystical creature older than all in existence, composed of the first stars to light the sky, younger only than the space in which it hangs. Diana couldn’t fathom a being so old, one older than the gods themselves. She wondered (wonders still, even) what you might know, for someone who’s been around that long has seen eons fly by, witnessed nations rise and fall as fast as it could blink. Surely you have also felt the flickering of the stars which surround you, as they take their place in the sky with you, shining for a few millennia before they flicker again, just as on the day they were created, as if hit with that last burst of energy before they die, and their spot in the universe is black once more. Diana wonders if you feel sad when that happens, because if that’s the case, you have been sad many times over, for your friends are never around for long.

It’s this last thought that has always bothered her. She tells herself she will make you smile, somehow, in some way. Never mind that she, nor anyone else in Themiscyra, knew where you were. The books in the library state you’re only found when you want to be, which has been precisely zero, at the time they’d been written. You’re a private creature. Maybe all the years of losing the stars you call companions has made you too afraid to find anymore.

You’re lingering in the back of her mind, and sometimes she dreams of you, as though her soul is reminding her of that goal she had come up with so long ago—to make you smile. But she doesn’t have time to look for you. The universe is vast and the conflicts within the world of man keep her busy, keep her on the ground. She’s taken up working at the Louvre in Paris, and one day a painting arrives at the museum, sent to her department for retouching before getting put on display, and the moment she lays eyes on it, her breath is stolen away.

There can be no mistake—it’s you. How she could tell without even knowing what you look like (for there hadn’t been images in any books either), she has no idea, but the way her heart seems to skip a beat is enough of a confirmation. Her gloved hand hovers over the canvas, aching to touch it, feel the texture against the latex. Your hair is meticulously done, each strand painted softly to match the soft look in your eyes, the serenity of a being who could hold all of time in its hand. The dress you wear is loose and billowy and she swears she can hear the wind which blows it about. Behind you is a dark sky and the formation of stars from which you came.

It’s not signed, and Diana searches the archives and asks others in the department about who might’ve done it, but no one is sure. There’s speculation, potential artists who had for one reason or another chosen not to leave their name; it’s not a good enough answer for her. When it’s finally hanging in one of the rooms of the Louvre, Diana stops by it often, staring at it with crossed arms and trying to make sense of how it came to be, how it has made its way here. Are you looking to be found? Have you deemed the time right? The Louvre might be famous but she’s wondering if that’s the only reason the painting has ended up here.

The Justice League begins as a series of dossiers on Bruce Wayne’s computer. Diana’s staring at all the faces on the screen as he pulls them up, and she tells him to stop when one in particular flashes across the monitor.

“Her. Do your recognize her at all?” she asks, pointing at it and glancing at him.

Bruce stares at the photo for a moment, then shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t. Should I?”

Diana purses her lips and contemplates explaining, then shakes her head. “No. I was thinking of someone else.” There’s still a part of her that’s doubtful it’s actually you, because it feels so strange that she hasn’t had to search the galaxy for you. She’d always believed you were living in a corner of the universe, in a realm all your own, from where you observe the wonders of the space around you, what has been brought to existence, to find something which catches your eye that you want to explore. Perhaps Earth had been that something? Because from the information Bruce has found on you—[Name] [Last Name] is what you go by—it seems you’ve been here long enough to carve out a life for yourself.

Once it comes time to recruit all the members, Bruce assigns Diana to you. He’d seen the familiarity flittering in her eyes when she saw your picture, and though she tried to brush it off, he knew there was something more she wasn’t telling him. So she sets out for you, but instead of traveling through various reaches of the universe, she travels to a small town in Greece.

She walks into the café and pauses momentarily to scan the room in search for you. Finally she spots you in the back corner, and it’s difficult to process. She’s been aware of you for as long as she can remember, had at times resigned herself to the fact that perhaps she would never find you, no matter how much she sought you out. Because it came down to whether or not you wanted someone to find you. But she’s not imagining anything as she slowly walks over, seeing that face from the pictures Bruce had and from that painting back in Paris, that for all she knows could be as old as you are. Your hair is shorter than what was on the painting, however, but that’s not saying much. In the artwork, it had reached the ground and trailed behind you, but now it merely goes down to your hips.

She reaches your table and gently says your name, not what you go by on Earth, but your real name, and you look up, and suddenly she’s falling into your eyes, as beautiful as they are old. You don’t look surprised to hear it, and she’s wondering why, because she doubts anyone else has used it on Earth. But maybe that is why you’re so unsurprised. No one else but her knows it—it wasn’t even in the files Bruce had on you. So when you hear it, you know who it is that’s said it, and Diana’s heart is beating hard because that means you know. You know she’d been searching for you, prepared to scour every inch of the cosmos for you, only to find you one plane ride away. She almost can’t believe this is real, that she stands before you now, the being she has heard and read so much about, who’d never wanted to be found until you did and not only that, you wanted to be found by her.

Diana tells herself it’s because of the League, that you wanted to be amongst them to fight agains the dark forces looming just around the bend. And sure, that’s part of it. You find a family in them, fighting alongside them with power fueled by the stardust in your blood. That’s what gives you the ability to shift—an imposing lioness, all golden fur and golden eyes and sharp claws and teeth and a deep roar. But the other part is the part she doesn’t want to admit to herself because doing so would admit that you mean more to her than just a battle companion, the greatest any could have. To do so would force her to admit that you mean the most to her out of anything she has ever known or understood and would ever know or understand.

But it’s hard not to fall in love with you. Many nights in Themiscyra she has fallen asleep wondering what you might look like, what you might sound like. And whenever she did, she swore she felt a warmth engulfing her, the ghostly sensation of a hand on her arm, thumb stroking her skin. As if you’d always been watching, always listening. It’s like she’s known you forever because when she looks at you, she sees home.

You can sense her apprehension, she’s sure of it. Because during one of those quiet moments when she thinks she’s falling too fast and she has to look away before she’s overwhelmed by the infinite depths stretching behind your eyes, you reach up to set a hand on her arm, your thumb stroking the skin gently, and suddenly she’s back in Themiscyra dreaming about you, and when you smile, she knows that you know. And it’s a special smile, one softer than all the rest you’ve ever worn upon your magnificent face, and Diana’s chest tightens when she sees it because that’s the smile—the one she always told herself she would be responsible for, the one full of love because she’s turning your mind away from thoughts of the stars you’ve watched die, and instead upon the stars in your sights now, and those which you can see millions of years into the future yet.

When she kisses you, she finds your lips to be warm, the perfect refuge in a world that can get awfully cold. And she comes to find the rest of your body is warm too, as she runs her own lips along the expanse of soft skin. It crosses her mind that you are made of stars, so perhaps that’s a given. You’re always burning, the warm glow of your form like her own North Star.

You lay on your stomach, arms crossed and tucked beneath your head, which is turned towards Diana. With a small smile on her face she connects the dots on your back with the tip of her index finger. You shiver as she does so, and your eyelids start to droop, the sensation making you sleepy. When her finger slides to the dots on the small of your back, running down your spine, you twitch and arch slightly. It’s a sensitive spot for you, and it makes her smile. The dots look like a tattoo, but Diana knows better—it’s a birthmark.

“This is Leo,” she speaks up, resting her hand on your back. It’s a statement, not a question.

You nod and turn onto your side so you can face her, and her hand slides along your body as you do. Now it’s positioned on the dip of your waist. You don’t say anything right away but the two of you are content to bask in each other’s presence for the time being. Then you grab the hand she has on your waist and lace your fingers together. It’s the perfect fit. “I would immortalize you in the stars, hang them up next to me if you wanted,” you start quietly. “Or I could take them from the sky and adorn the circlet you wear. Though I think they’d feel a little outshone.”

Diana chuckles and brings your joined hands up to her mouth so she can lay a kiss on the back of yours. Between the affection residing in your eyes and the charm which colors your smile, she already knows, more confidently than anything else she has ever known before, that the other stars which share the expanse of the universe with you have long since been outstaged.

#diana prince x reader #diana prince imagine #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman imagine #justice league imagine #Diana Prince #Wonder Woman #justice league #DC comics #dc comics imagine #bubble-tea-bunny

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possumcorpse · 7 years

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nightly post

honestly i just wanna sleep rn

im gonna bs my filiipino hw and complete my english tomorrow at school idont care

im most likely super unprepared for college and life in general oh well

im hoping everoyne else is having a nice night/morning/whatever time youre reading this

its finally friday. once school is over its just relaxation and stuff for two and a half days

fuck me i cant wake fuck

okay gnight almost done with the drawing love yall everyone :3

-me

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gabrielalexandebrubaker95 · 4 years

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